The Words Inside
by PrsctrTails
Summary: My AU take on the publishing of Inside. Currently Dan/Nate centric, but will add more in coming chapters! Reviews appreciated! Rated T for language.
1. Chapter 1

He never would have imagined that words have been his downfall. After all, words were his great constant and friend. Even during those dark and dreary days at St. Jude's, he still had pen and paper, a laptop or even a typewriter. How could his own words turn on him?

He sighed as his hand searched aimlessly for a glass, then a bottle. Even though it had been less than 45 minutes since he had almost vomited up a lung due to gratuitous consumption of cheap Bourbon, he genuinely believed that was a better feeling than knowing that _Inside_ was out there. His other problem was that he could still feel his feelings. He had yet to find the right combination/amount of alcohol to achieve that goal. Though, to his credit he had worked up a pack-a-day cigarette habit. He was a published "author" now; he basically assumed he was supposed to live in a drunken, nicotine-scented stupor.

Before Dan Humphrey could roll his mind through another thought, he found his vision whiting out and sludge-like bile rushing from his mouth into the sink. The worst part wasn't the taste; it was the fact he was used to it. His heaving and retching finished as quickly as it started. He tried rather vainly to wash the taste of equal parts puke and liquor out of his mouth with an adjacent cup of old water. He tried to tell himself this was self-destructive, but self-destruction only really happened when people cared about you.

Somehow, he made his way back to the bed again. The rest of the loft smelled like alcohol, cigarette smoke and anger, his bedroom reeked of sad and lonely. As an experiment, he had turned off his phone for the weekend. He turned it back on Monday and discovered he had no voicemails or texts. That was what confirmed the fact he needed to sign his Upper East Side death certificate. He still hoped his self-imposed exile was enough to make everyone happy. He had a bet with himself that it would be about two months before everyone purposefully forgot he existed. Maybe he would get lucky and turn into an Urban Legend that was spoken of in hushed tones in the dorm hallways back at NYU.

The odd part was he didn't know what to do. Normally, he at least had a semblance of what could be done to make most situations better, but now that was for naught. He no longer had Serena or Nate to confide in, he didn't have Chuck to use as a punching bag. He didn't even have Blair to occasionally scheme with. Oddly enough, he never knew he could actually long for the artful insanity of the UES. Only in hindsight did he realize it was disturbingly fun.

His mind merely thinking the name Blair caused his skull to almost implode. He had written a book about a girl he had once come very close to loathing. Sure, he never meant for said book to see the very light of day, but intent followed the keystrokes.

Unceremoniously, his body collapsed and tangled into the sweat stained sheets. His head came to a slightly thumping rest on the tear stained pillow. He barely had the energy to stare at the ceiling, much less remember that he was still holding his cell phone.

It was scary, really. All contact with anyone he had ever cared about basically ceased at the exact same time. Tracing the time stamps on the texts, voicemails and call logs, he could literally pinpoint when his life as he knew it ended. He was sure there was at least a good short story prompt in there somewhere, but he would be damned if ever formed words on paper for pleasure again. The only thing he planned on filling out in the near future was his transfer paperwork for the University of Virginia. Dan, by virtue of his love for Southern writers, knew that if he played his hand right the literary community down South might just shield him. Besides, no one from the UES would be caught dead below the Mason-Dixon Line.

Rolling his head back, Dan sighed. He even hated talking. Whatever words he did muster were usually the occasional profanity. He had no one to swear at or with, but it just felt better.

"Fuck," He blurted out, closing his eyes. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!" He half-hollered. That brought a little bit of joy, but not much. He would rather have had something to throw across The Loft. He grabbed for his alarm clock, ready to engage in theraputic vandalism, when his phone chimed with a text. He looked down to read, ready for what was probably the threat of a lawsuit.

_From: Nate_

_Dan, you still alive?_

"….Fuck me." Dan finally said.


	2. Chapter 2

All Dan could do was stare at the phone. He sat up on his bed with bloodshot eyes locked on the device. His brain, which was still floating in a slight sea of Bourbon, paddled at rapid speed.

It had been about five weeks since _Inside_ had hit the shelves. It took the UES all of five minutes to figure out who was who and who had written it. Nate had technically been the last human being he had spoken to. Though the memory was fuzzy, Dan recalled that it was something about maybe playing soccer in the park. It was their shared form of stress relief.

That had been five weeks ago, and he had assumed the era of friendly soccer therapy was dead. So, why did he just now get a text? He quickly devolved into paranoia of the finest pedigree and discovered he was talking to himself.

"It could be a Gossip Girl trick," He first reasoned. It was within her game plan to play dirty. "Or it's someone else trying to find out something."

He looked up to quickly study the abandoned Loft. "Not a whole lot to find out."

After eschewing that thought, he realized that forces much greater and angrier wanted back at him. It wasn't too terribly hard for him to imagine Serena, Blair and Chuck stealing Nate's phone as part of a very convoluted plan to make his life even more miserable. Though, considering the main themes of his current life were blacking out and smelling like cigarettes 24/7, he wasn't sure how even they could make it worse.

And yet, for all the distrust that was wrapping itself around him, there was one thought that would not roll over and die. Even his own probably irrational fear couldn't crush it.

What if it was Nate? Like… real, actual Nate?

All this was a tad bit too much to process so quickly. His mind tried to figure out the odds and percentages. He reread the four-word text over and over trying to analyze every little bit. This was a bit of a futile task considering he and everyone else he had once known had the annoying habit of spelling things out. Though, he imagined that at least someone knew how Nate texted and that maybe they were using that as some sort of trap.

All these thoughts quickly lead to something a few steps short of fury. Why did a book have to turn him into a Brooklyn Hermit? He punched at his bed a few times, not knowing if it was out of frustration or the loneliness he worked constantly to ignore but suddenly couldn't.

Out of stress, he rose from his bed and shrugged into a pair of sweatpants. He grabbed a pack of cigarettes and made for the fire escape. There he perched and burned through one after another. He lost track at fourteen, but really didn't care. He probably had the money to buy enough Nicotine gum to quit, if he ever decided to quit.

Autumn was giving way to Fall, and it was a little nippy outside. He rolled his head, trying to pop his neck. The coming of winter was well suited to his newfound special kind of sadness.

"My life sucks." Dan said out loud. In his mind, it sucked so much that he was downright afraid to respond to a text message from his probably former best friend because it might lead to a Pandora's Box of further social decimation.

Looking up from his cigarette, he noticed that, for once, he felt not…overly bad. Maybe it was the cooling whether numbing him or maybe all his feelings had finally left. He sighed as he tried to curl his mouth into a smile, but found that the muscles wouldn't comply. He wondered when his last smile had happened. It probably had something to do with something Nate or Blair had done.

Crushing his cigarette into a handlebar, he went back inside and noticed that his phone was blinking. He froze up slightly because that meant another text had found its way to him. Running one and through his curls, the other picked up the phone and did some clicking.

_From: Nate_

_Are you okay?_

His knees got wobbly and he suddenly discovered he had to sit down. His sphere of isolation had been now been invaded twice by text messages of doubtful origin. Even in inglorious defeat and retreat, the UES wouldn't leave him alone. Though, if whatever was on the other end of those texts wanted to find him, why should he hide? He reasoned that his life sucked so much that maybe dragging them down with him would be moderately enjoyable.

While that thought dominated one side of his brain, the other half hoped and hoped that whatever he eventually replied was going to Nate and Nate alone.

Sucking in a breath, he picked up his phone and allowed his thumb to hammer out a quick message.

_To: Nate_

_No. Help. _


	3. Chapter 3

The quick but nagging burst of vibration from his phone was enough to jar him from his four-hour 'power nap'. Fumbling his way into one of his pockets, Nate removed his phone while still blinking sleep out of his eyes.

_From: Dan_

_No. Help._

Those two words answered a few questions while simultaneously opening the door to many more. At least Dan was alive, though apparently not doing well. For a while, Nate hadn't been sure. Not only was Humphrey kicking, but appeared to be in need of help. This led Nate to wonder if he was the one who was supposed to provide it. He hadn't seen Dan in weeks. Before that novel had come out and everyone had said it totally ruined everything for everyone on the UES. He lowered his phone and placed it next to his copy of _Inside_.

Like everyone else with a Trust Fund and a pulse, he had read it. Dan being Dan, Nate only understood about half of it. The rest involved situations that were way beyond him. What wasn't beyond him was the fact that only two people looked good in the book, one was Blair and the other was, for whatever reason, him. It was probably a very high compliment that Dan had spared him any literary bashings. In the overall picture, he came out better than Serena, who basically used Dan as a sort of disposable pair of shoulders to cry on. He was loath to admit he had a hard time looking at Serena the same way since the book had come out.

Though he would probably never admit it publicly, Nate loved his character. He enjoyed the chapters devoted to his drug-related and older woman loving antics. Though he wasn't entirely sure why Dan made him a baseball player. At least he had kept the bangs and the eyes.

The first time he had read it, like everyone else, he had been furious. The second time, he realized Dan didn't air any secrets that weren't already fairly common knowledge. By the third reading, he was laughing. After the fourth, he viewed the paragraphs and pages devoted to his character as a very understated yet brotherly 'I love you' from Dan.

Rubbing his temple, Nate wondered what the next move was. No one had seen or heard from the wayward author in quite a while. This immediately burdened him with the knowledge that he may suddenly have become the only lifeline. Nate wondered if he was even properly geared for this. He really wasn't an hour of need type of guy. He was more pot and video games.

To the best of his knowledge, he was the first amongst the circle to reach out to Dan, and definitely the first to get a response. His mind suddenly flashed on all those lectures about duty and responsibility that Grandfather had drilled into him. This wasn't just some publicity-seeking author, this was _Dan Humphrey_. The guy who had taken him in when he was perilously close to being homeless. This was the guy that could stay up for hours on end turning Nate's typed-up gibberish/homework into an A+ paper.

Thumping his fingers on his copy of the novel, Nate laughed out a sigh as he picked up his phone. His fingers, which were apparently the fingers of a baseball player, fired off what he hoped was a concise yet in-depth reply.

_To: Dan_

_Where are you?_

Nate sat the phone down and rolled his head back. His left hand searched for his pack of cigarettes. It was habit that even he thought was disgusting, but it just sort of happened. He blamed all the stress over the book. It turned previously insane people into creatures that just weren't pleasant to be around.

His phone chimed briefly to life.

_From: Dan_

_Why does that matter?_

Nate smirked. Nice to know Dan was still his socially paranoid self. He decided that maybe a semblance of humor would draw out the elusive Humphrey

_To: Dan_

_And that means Brooklyn, right?_

Nate was oddly proud of himself for that. He reasoned that nobody could resist his terrible jokes. They had been quite potent in the book. If there was anything left of the darkly humored Dan Humphrey, bad dialogue would bring it out.

Yet another chime.

_From: Dan_

_Yes._

Again, Nate was very proud of himself.

_To: Dan_

_So, you're in Brooklyn. How are you holding up?_

Sure this probably counted as heterosexual verbal footsy, but it was nice to interact with someone who wasn't ranting about that book. Though, on a deeper level, Nate knew that Dan was probably hurting. Normally Dan was able to brag about even the stupidest of his choices. Cue the chimes.

_From: Dan_

_Barely at all. _

From that, Nate felt himself squirm awkwardly. He hadn't figured Dan was doing overly well, but it was still disheartening to know it was reality. Dan was a writer, so why was everyone mad that he had written a book? Was it really that surprising? Nate knew that the Gold of the UES was propped up by a weirdly false sense of superiority, so maybe their over the top reaction was some sort of way to flex their might over some strong-willed kid from Brooklyn. Nate found the whole thing distasteful. Nate's fingers moved before his brain did.

_To: Dan_

_Anything I can do?_

Nate figured that this would either work or unleash some level of angsty Hell he couldn't swim out of. He smirked to himself. His _Inside_ character had this weird aura of loyalty [To Dan] to him, and Nate had always figured that it had been Dan making him look good. Leave it to Dan to note a positive interior trait. He was about to flip open the book the chapter where he screwed every Cougar in the UES when his phone chimed yet again.

_From: Dan_

_Yeah. Prove you're you. _

Huh? Nate felt his face go from content to the expression his face normally made whenever he walked into a purposefully highbrow conversation. "Prove I'm me?" Nate partially repeated. Was that some literary swashbuckle? He had the immediate feeling that wasn't a question he could ask to be explained. Explanation aside, Nate would have loved to know how he was supposed to prove he was himself. Or even why he had to. What was Dan thinking? This wasn't April Fo-

Ah.

True to his own paranoia, Nate reasoned that Dan was probably holed-up in Brooklyn waiting for Gossip Girl and her hordes to burst in and skin him alive, perhaps literally. Now things made a little more sense. A tad bit gleefully, Nate fired back proof-positive of his identity.

_To: Dan_

_Before last Christmas, we both got really, really drunk. I halfway choked on the lid to a bottle of Vodka. You had to fish it out and I accidentally bit you. You have a scar on your lower left pinkie. When it finally healed and we were both sober, I jokingly told you that I had marked my territory. _

The message was sent and Nate had to keep himself from giggling. He felt clearly on pins and needles waiting for the response. It came back quickly.

_From: Dan_

…_. Hi, Nate. _


	4. Chapter 4

[Fie on last night's episode! It is written in the Stars that these two are supposed to be the official GG bromance. I'd even argue Divine Right!]

Dan looked down at his pinky and _almost _managed a smile. The crooked thin line of fibrous tissue that ran from the base to halfway up his little finger was what he, at the moment, best remembered about Nate. His exile had made it hard to remember any facial features or overly funny jokes. Nate's text had inserted the word jokingly into the story about said scar, but, and this was probably the five weeks of alcohol talking, he remembered Nate more or less bragging about the fact that Dan had been marked. There were certainly elements of humor in his voice, but the overriding emotion seemed to be pride over his latest conquest.

Dan suddenly wondered why that hadn't wound up in the book. It was a brief, blip of a thought, but he was still curious. He shrugged the thought away as he lay back in his bed, glaring at the ceiling. He had genuinely forgotten what human interaction, even via text, was like. His phone chimed briefly.

_From: Nate_

_Need any more convincing?_

Dan, who should have laughed but could only roll his eyes, fired back a quick reply.

_To: Nate_

_No, that's good. But I do have a question._

He suddenly felt like he was pushing the boundaries of this still-young reintegration, but he didn't know of any other way to phrase this question. He waited for Nate's eventual reply.

_From: Nate_

_Shoot._

Well, it again seemed like Dan was again going to test out whether or not his words had truly turned against him.

_To: Nate_

_Am I, relatively speaking, still your territory?_

Dan hadn't meant it to sound that gay, but it had. It did sound better than a long, blathering declaration trying to persuade Nate from abandoning him to his own misery. It was an odd question, though he at least knew Nate would get the gist of it. Hopefully. The response was instant.

_From: Nate_

_Always. Face it, dude. You're marked. _

Then Dan laughed. He didn't know why. Maybe it was the absurdity of the entire conversation or the odd nature of their friendship, but he was laughing. He looked down at the scar and laughed even more. He laughed because he had been convinced he was never going to laugh again. The laughter rolled back as he relaxed his shoulders and back, eternally grateful to his man-banged friend for removing quite a good deal of stress.

His back may have been better, but his eyes nearly shot out of his head when his phone rang. Not chimed, but rang. He answered without really looking.

"Hello?" Dan said.

"Baseball, seriously?" Nate said. "I don't like baseball."

"Lacrosse was too preppy and soccer was too…um…" He trailed off.

"Too what?" Nate asked.

"Too personal." Dan answered.

"Works for me," Nate said, shrugging. "So, you okay, really?"

"Barely," Dan laughed, repeating his earlier line. "Life just sucks."

"Tell me about it," Nate said slyly. "I have to listen to people whine about your book all day long. And since when did you have the free time to write a book?"

"Neither here nor there." Was Dan's calculated reply. It was a deflection of the highest order, but he hoped it would work. "So…you're not mad?"

"The first time, yeah. You wrote about everyone and didn't tell anyone." Nate said.

"Fair enough."

"But I'm not that mad anymore. At least I come off looking pretty good."

"Yeah, you did," Dan said. "Consider it payback for all the weed you've gotten me over the years."

"Was that a compliment or not?" Nate asked.

"…Yes," Dan eventually said. "Any more questions about the book?"

"Is there any older woman I didn't sleep with?"

"My mom." Dan answers honestly.

"Does that mean a sequel?" Nate asked, shaking so hard from suppressed laughter that he was barely able to see straight.

"_No_," Dan said, voice with a half-humorous, half-scared edge.

"Gotcha," Nate chuckled. "So, if you're still stuck in Brooklyn, am I allowed to come over?"

"I guess." Dan sheepishly admitted. He wasn't entirely sure if his life was worth viewing.

"Cool. Need me to bring anything?"

"Uhh… bring your copy of _Inside,_" Dan said, silently cringing to himself. "There's stuff I need to explain…and apologize for."


	5. Some Night Music

Dan stood underneath the cone of hot, pulsing water, honestly curious to see if it could not only wash away the stench of all the alcohol, but also the overriding odor of desperation. That, and he had never interacted with a live human being about _Inside_, much less Nate. Though, the fact that Nate didn't want to kill him was a very good start.

With the bathroom door closed, the heat from the water had reached sauna levels quickly. Dan could feel the alcohol sweating from his pores. He reasoned all the liquor he had consumed hadn't caused him to gain weight primarily because the rest of his diet consisted of coffee and cigarettes. That, and all the vomiting was probably a culprit in keeping his weight from rocketing out of control.

His curls wet, Dan tried his best to decide if his almost scruffy facial stubble made him look cool or not. He realized it was a pointless thought largely due to the fact that no matter what he did, he would probably never be looked at well again. He finally decided to shave. He didn't like the look after all, and his razor fixed that. Maybe it was all the booze finally leaving his system, but if Nate was willing to talk to him, maybe that meant that Blair and Serena might find a way to let him back in.

It was purely wishful thinking, but it was at least somewhat positive. His mental barriers eased a bit and allowed a few reminiscences into his head: Serena's ditziness, Blair's unyielding [and arousing] brutality and her loyalty, Nate's weird little habit of always being happy. He allowed himself to drift back it a pre-_Inside _dream world for a few moments as hot water continued to cascade against him. Time slowed and ebbed in rhythm with the water as it circled tub and into the drain.

Later, as he stepped out of the shower, he felt almost at peace. The water-induced Zen had been a great distraction, and he didn't smell like booze as much. Dan humorously wondered how much toothpaste and mouthwash it would take to give him passably decent breath.

It took three different usages of Listerine and two round of brushing his teeth to bring his breath back into the realm of inoffensive. Not entirely thinking clearly, Dan, sans boxers, grabbed a clean pair of jeans and eased into them followed by a somewhat faded but still violet NYU t-shirt. Unless the school, too, had banished him, he fully intended to wear their shirts, which were cool in a tragic, hipster sort of way.

He set about The Loft in a quarter-frenzied, housewife sort of way. Perhaps he was genuinely worried about appearances. Dan was always a bit of a neat freak whenever Nate was involved. Though, that was probably because Nate was, well, slovenly was perhaps too kind of a descriptor. The last time Dan had been in Nate's dorm at Columbia, he had nearly gone insane. It was weird that he cared more about how things looked for Nate than he did for Blair.

Ignoring the cold, he opened a window to try and let the smell of stale cigarette smoke out of the living room/kitchen. Harder than that was finding and disposing of all the empty bottles and tops. Though he was dancing perilously close to being an alcoholic, Dan had no desire to broadcast any of that to the outside world. Worse still, he was mentally happy to be running around like a Real Estate agent trying to make a property presentable.

The blur of cleaning-related movement lasted until the sound of an opening and closing door jolted Dan back to reality so fast his neck truly hurt for a split-second. He had been sweeping his bedroom and was half bent-over his bed.

"Hey." Said the voice that had been playing in his head since the earlier flurry of text messages.

"Hey." Dan said back, standing up straight and scratching the back of his head. He wasn't happy with his reply. If he was honest with himself, the first words out of his mouth would have 'Dear God, I missed you.' but he had settled for something monosyllabic.

Nate was about to speak, when instead he sniffed the air. Dan thought he looked like a puppy whenever he scrunched his nose. He was pretty sure that line had made it into _Inside_. "Smells like cigarettes." Nate finally said.

"Yeah, I kind of…smoke now." Dan confessed, shrugging. He couldn't wait for that judgmental face Nate sometimes made whenever Dan did something questionable.

"Huh. Me too," Nate said, fishing a half-crumpled pack of cigarettes from his jeans. He grabbed and lit one before tossing the package to Dan. "It's all that stress from hearing people bitch about your book." Nate explained, holding up his decently worn copy.

"See, that was my plan all along," Dan said, wrangling a cigarette from the pack with an almost grin. "I had to further ruin your little Golden Boy image."

"You're still a bad liar," Nate countered. "Just like in the book."

Dan shrugged a little as he moved closer to stick his hand out for a shake. It was a completely mundane gesture, but if it happened, it would have gone a long way for Dan.

He was completely unprepared for the punch in the gut. Literally. It wasn't a true punch, but enough to slightly rob him of breath. This wasn't promising. He braced himself as he stood up, well aware that Nate was stronger than him in every physical aspect.

"That was for not talking to me sooner," Nate said. "You owed me at least one text."

"Gotcha," Dan nodded, swallowing hard. Subconsciously, he knew something like that would happen. The feeling eventually passing, Dan was able to stand up straight again. "Sorry about vanishing. I was kind of… out of it for a while."

"Uh-huh," Nate nodded. "Sit down before you pass out."

Dan obediently did so as he shuffled to a chair and dropped into it. "Thanks for sparing my face."

"I wasn't that mad." Nate replied.

"That makes you the only one," Dan rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, I figured that out when you asked me to prove that I was me." Nate laughed.

"Hey, my suspicions were valid," Dan defended. "And good job remembering the scar story."

"Thanks," Nate answered, placing his copy of the book on the table. "You know, it's a really good book."

"Because you look so good?" Dan asked, worried a little about the answer.

"Duh." Was all Nate answered.

"Duly noted," Dan nodded, laughing as he lit another cigarette. "Nasty habit, huh?"

"Yep," Nate nodded, following Dan's lead. "So, what was it you wanted to explain?"

"Give me a break, you hit me." Dan laughed.

"No, that was just an 'I missed you' punch." Nate explained.

Dan chuckled. "I just wanted to get across that I by no means ever wanted that book to see the light of day. Please believe me. But, well, since it is out there, I am sorry for whatever drama it might have caused."

"Relax, man," Nate said, rolling his eyes. "I wasn't going to stop being friends with you over a book. Remember, I used to live here."

Dan leaned back in his chair, not bothering to hide his relief. At least he still had one friend across the Bridge.


	6. Lunch, Maybe?

Seeing as the alcohol had been somewhat forcibly pulled from his system by his previous shower, and the fact that actually interacting with Nate had finally allowed his stomach to unwind from its weeks old knot, he was suddenly starving.

"You up for sticking around for lunch?" Dan asked.

"Yeah, sure," Nate nodded. "Pizza sounds good."

That it did. With slight memories of Blair in his head, Dan fished out all the various pizza menus he had collected over the years. He could scarcely hide his respite when Nate joined him in the kitchen and helped sift through the endless listings. The two sat perched on barstools as they flipped through page after page. Nate eventually chuckled.

"Dude, you _really_ smell like cigarettes," the Golden Boy laughed, nonchalantly and somehow judgmentally exhaling a little smoke from his own mouth.

Dan shrugged. "I'm a writer. I think it's required. What's your real excuse?"

"I told you, stress relief. 75% of my day consists of listening to everyone complain about your book. Drinking makes me gain weight, this doesn't." Nate explained.

"Huh. I did both," Dan said, pointing towards a litany of empty glass bottles in a trashcan. "I basically can't remember the first week after that book came out."

"Rough," Nate said, face trying to show an emotion besides pity. He knew more than anything else that Dan hated being pitied. "Why didn't you call me?"

"I thought you were furious. I looked you up on Gossip Girl a few times, and you didn't look too thrilled."

"Does anyone ever look happy when they're on Gossip Girl?" Nate asked.

"… True," Dan conceded. "I haven't been on in weeks."

"Yeah, I'd keep it that way. She's still not too fond of you." Nate advised.

"A website is mad at me. Well, she can get in line behind everyone else." Dan said, rubbing his forehead.

"They'll get over it," Nate tried to reassure his friend. "I got over it."

"Because you liked the book. I did make you out to be a stoner with a glistening diamond heart." Dan humorously grumbled.

"Direct quote," Nate laughed. "Very nice."

"Wow, you really did read my book," Dan laughed. "In retrospect, I should have made you a soccer player."

"Yeah, baseball? Come on." Nate laughed a little.

"Hey, you wearing stirrup socks is a hilarious image," Dan explained. "And no complaining. I somehow made your bangs sound endearing."

"They are, dude." Nate said, humorously serious.

"So, if I can ask, why are you not mad?"

"Because it was a book. And a lot of it was pretty accurate," Nate shrugged. "Besides, it's not like I didn't know anything you wrote."

"Ah, there's the fake ignorance," Dan chortled. "I at least had to point out that you're not as dense as real life as you are in the book."

"Happily ignorant was the phrase you used in the book." Nate added, jokingly raising an eyebrow as he rose from his stool to fetch his copy of _Inside_ from the living room. "Page…121: It was always amusing whenever he tried to study and play videogames at the same time. His B+ average at St. John's University spoke to his own secret study skills and my editing prowess." Nate read, laughing to himself a little. "Was that a compliment?"

"Considering you've already punched me because you 'missed me', yes that's a compliment. Of the highest caliber." Dan said, rubbing his still slightly sore gut.

"Thought so," Nate smirked victoriously. "If it helps, I guess I can try and apologize for everyone else."

"How's Blair taking it?" Dan asked quickly, not able to stop himself.

"…Not well," Nate admitted, returning to the kitchen counter. "She doesn't like when things mess with her plans."

"Really? I hadn't noticed that in her." Dan quipped.

"I gotta say, man, you have the most destructive taste in women."

"You mean we. We've both pined for Serena and Blair in our short lives." Dan corrected, rolling his eyes a little. "Did you pick a pizza place yet? I'm not getting any less hungry over here."

"Hey, I'm not normally sober when I order food. Cut me some slack." Nate sort of pouted.

"Yes, Nate. I remember those cannabis-heavy nights," Dan smirked. "And the random places we'd wake up."

"I still win because I once wound up on the roof." Nate bragged, some errant sunlight causing his eyes to shimmer.

"Yeah, well… I woke up in the shower once." Dan tried to counter. He was nothing if not hygienic, even in drug-induced states.

"Oh, yeah. You're real hardcore," Nate said, jokingly punching Dan on the shoulder. "I pick that place."

"Kay," Dan said, plucking the menu up and dialing a number on his phone. He was placed on hold and grumbled. Nate smirked as he moved to Dan's bedroom. He'd let Dan deal with the probably foreign people working the phone. Besides, Nate was a little curious as to what the famed Fortress of Solitude looked like since that book had hit the market.

It looked like Dan's room normally did, which Nate couldn't decide was good or bad. He noted the cheesy typewriter and all the painfully dull foreign films he had tried to make him watch. Nate recalled that not even straight alcohol was able to make them bearable. Weed had kind of helped.

What caught his eyes were several neatly arranged pages that were poking out between DVDs of _Barry_ _Lyndon_ and _The Verdict_. Looking around and feeling very much like a cat burglar, Nate carefully removed the papers as he looked around to make sure Dan was still negotiating with the pizza people, and apparently not doing much of a good job.

He sat on the bed and scanned the title.

_Soccer: by Dan Humphrey_.

It was a simple story, really. It was just Dan's stream of consciousness about one of their little soccer in the park moments. It wasn't anything special. It was just four pages of some completely unmemorable afternoon. But it wasn't simple, it was flowery. Every little thought in Dan's head had found its way onto the paper.

Only Dan could turn something that Nate viewed as rote and turn it into a portrait on paper. Nate was more than a little touched. He gently slid the papers back into place and made his way back into the kitchen. Dan had seemingly successfully ordered their food and was back on the couch. Nate took Dan's former place in the chair and cast a shy smile at him.

"What?" Dan asked, making that face that was the perfect combination of amused/confused.

"Nothing, man," Nate said, again plucking his copy of _Inside_ of the table. He leafed through the pages with his thumb. His gaze shifted between Dan and the pages before settling finally on Dan. "…I love you, too."


	7. Here's The Thing

Dan was humorously wide-eyed. He always had the slight habit of never knowing when to shut up, but now? Four little words from Nate had robbed him of every mental faculty he had.

"Too?" Dan finally said, not actually aware he was talking.

"Uh, yeah," Nate laughed a little. "I read the book. About ten times. And, well, that's what it seemed like you were trying to say to Blair. And me."

Dan nodded a little, sort of confused. Either he had forgotten what had actually been written, or Nate was an expert at subtext.

"But even if there wasn't a book, I still love you." Nate said, leaning back into the chair.

"Why?" Was all Dan could muster, his emotions at the moment heavier than his muscles.

"Because you're flawless." Nate explained. Dan found that sentiment funny coming from a guy who looked like he had been carved out of some sort of celestial marble. Dan remained in stunned silence, yet nothing felt awkward.

Nate had never been all that good and not acting on emotions he thought were important. Besides, maybe this would cheer Dan up some. Nate had been having that particular thought since before the book. Probably since he had moved into The Loft, or maybe when they both started college and found that they really enjoyed being around each other.

"Flawless?" Dan finally repeated, slowly catching up with his own mind. "The how?"

"Come on, man," Nate laughed a little. "Don't act like you do in the book. The whole clueless thing was funny in high school, but do you really not know what you're worth?"

"I guess not," Dan almost mumbled, really not sure of the current protocol. "Side affect of dating Serena."

"Yeah, she did mess you up a lot."

"Huh?" Dan replied.

"Dude, you came off as her chewtoy. It was kinda ugly," Nate said, rubbing his hands together. "I get that you and she had that crazy love, but it didn't seem all that good for you."

"What relationship has been good for me?" Dan mirthlessly asked aloud.

"Me," Nate answered simply as he rose from the chair and sat next to Dan on the couch. He affectionately draped a hand around that famous Humphrey jaw. "And you know it."

"The thought…" Dan gulped. "Had occurred to me." As he spoke, Dan shamelessly rolled his chin forward, wanting to feel more of Nate's fingers on his face. Nate obliged as he stroked Dan's jaw line with his thumb. Normally, Dan would have grinned or smirked or something equally snarky. Instead, he went for an actual smile.

"It feels like someone shaved just for me," Nate laughed a little.

"Yeah, I had some scruff. It sounds more attractive than it actually was." Dan explained.

"Gotcha," Nate knowingly nodded as his hand drifted upwards into Dan's hair. He had forgotten just how curly it was. Judging by how lengthy it had gotten, Dan really hadn't gotten out very much. Nate decided very quickly that he liked it long.

Dan found his head involuntarily moving ever so slightly as he felt Nate's fingers explore his tangled mess of curls. The thought crossed his mind that he might as well have been Nate's Labrador as well. "This'll really make everyone else mad…"

"So?" Nate immediately responded, his face that picture of carefree that Dan had missed. "I've given up on caring what our friends think."

"Your friends." Dan said, voice betraying his sadness.

"Trust me," Nate comforted, hand cradling the back of Dan's head. "They'll get over it. Plus, you didn't write about them the way you wrote about me and Blair."

"I had no clue I wrote about you like that." Dan confessed, feeling himself open up.

"Maybe you didn't know it," Nate said, pulling his hand back from Dan's hair to lower it down his back. He didn't drift under Dan's shirt, he just busied himself with softly running his hand up and down over the material of the shirt, but firmly enough to feel the warmth of his friend's skin.

Dan nodded as he felt his body go through weird pangs and cramps. None of this was supposed to be happening. Nate was supposed to hate him for that book just like everyone else did. And now, this? It was bafflingly. He let out a few hitched breaths as his body slowly gave in to the sea of crashing emotions. Dan slumped forward into Nate.

"Relax, man. Just relax," Nate said, arms quickly enveloping Dan.

Dan's problems melted with him as he felt himself dissolve in the hug. He had forgotten this.

This was _Nate Archibald_. He was man-bangs and blue eyes and smiles. On a physical level, he was tan skin and smooth muscles. Deeper than that he was loyalty and kindness and affection. If he was honest, Dan wasn't really sure how he had ever resisted the Golden Boy.

"This is… you're supposed to be mad. Everyone else is mad. Why…you're supposed to be mad…why aren't you mad?" Dan babbled.

Nate leaned himself back so he was laying on the couch, he pulled Dan with him. The two shifted slightly and it ended with Dan using Nate's upper chest as a sort of pillow. Nate said nothing. He merely wrapped one arm around Dan's hips and another around his shoulders. Dan's curls tickled under his chin. He smelled like Irish Spring and cigarettes. Nate reasoned they probably had twenty or so minutes of quality quiet before the pizza showed up. From his vantage point as Dan's pillow, that was just fine.


	8. It's a Funny Story, Really

The expensive yet scratchy flannel of Nate's shirt produced a slight tingling on Dan's freshly-shaven jaw and cheeks. One of Nate's hands had floated upwards and was gently grazing the nape of Dan's neck. The limp Humphrey mumbled something under his breath as he pushed a smile into Nate's shirt.

"Feeling better?" Nate asked.

"Mhm." Dan answered, nodding slightly. His curls again brushed up and down Nate's chin.

It was odd that the seemingly 'happily ignorant' Nate best knew how Dan worked. Nate knew all about the moodiness and insecurity that came from a somewhat less than stable family life and a cast of frenimies a mile long. It was Nate's own instabilities that gave him the behind the scenes peak into Dan's private chaos.

He admired the way Dan could hold himself up in the face of the most violent of Upper East Side social storms. There was something so… noble about it all. Sure, Nate liked to look at drunken girls at parties and he sort of pretended to be interested in all the things Chuck partook of, but he was _attracted _to Dan. It was a thin bright line, but it was there. Maybe it was the big vocabulary or his curly locks. Or it might have been the way Nate, a Columbia student, could always rely on NYU Dan to help him write a paper. However, the real kick in the equation was that whenever Nate was bored out of his skull in class, the first thing his mind would drift away into was Dan's crooked, beautiful smile.

He had seen it first, inadvertently, in high school. Said smile had been meant for Serena, but Nate had still been caught in its beam. Mesmerizing would have been selling it short. Nate, by virtue of growing up in the UES, was used to smiles made of plastic and Botox. Dan was different; when he smiled he meant it. It was so rare.

"How come you don't smell like cigarettes?" Dan asked, voice a little hushed.

"No clue," Nate answered. "The same reason you never smell like weed."

"What are you implying, Archibald?" Dan humorously asked.

"That you smoke a lot of weed. Maybe even as much as me."

"That's impossible," Dan laughed. Nate jokingly slapped the back of his head. "Hey, you're the one who introduced it to me."

Nate grinned, claiming another victory. Unlike most of the idiots he smoked with, Dan didn't babble or blather when stoned. He would just get quiet, but in a really cool sort of way. He was like some sort of Zen figure who wore flannel. Proud of himself for so far resisting his own baser urges, Nate adjusted the arm that was wrapped around Dan's hips and fluidly grabbed one of Dan's butt cheeks. Dan's head shot up. Nate smirked at the feeling of denim in his palm.

"Are you taking what you think you deserve?" Dan asked, blushing deeply. At the quip, Nate only squeezed.

"Yup," Nate smiled. "Drop the act, you love it."

"A little, yeah." Dan nodded. He had always liked to imagine that Nate would be pleasantly aggressive in certain physical aspects. He had always considered adding something more risqué to _Inside_, but had decided against it. That was back in the days when we wasn't sure if Nate looked at him in the way he secretly looked at Nate.

"So all you've been doing is chain-smoking and drinking?" Nate asked.

"Pretty much," Dan confessed. It was somehow even less glorious to actually admit it out loud. "What have you been doing?"

Nate shrugged a little, not sure how to phrase it. "Reading and rereading your book. And trying to pretending I didn't love my character."

"But I thought you hated baseball?" Dan jokingly asked, snaking his head upwards so it was a bit closer to the open space around the crook of Nate's neck. If worse came to worse, Dan reasoned he could always unbutton a few of the buttons of Nate's shirts.

"I do, but you at least made me the prize of all the UES Cougars." Nate bragged, giving Dan's rear another squeeze. The action earned a blush from Dan.

"See, that wasn't all that fictional. You do have quite the impressive collection," Dan laughed. "The least I could do was put it in print form."

_The least I could do_. Nate thought that was just an odd phrase, if only for the timing. They, two supposedly straight guys, were talking about a 'fictional' womanizing character while basically intertwined at the legs and arms. Neither really knew how to address the current situation. The beauty of it was that they neither really saw the need to clarify.

Dan, who was nothing if not submissive, took the bull by the horns as he slowly, clumsily really, tried to unbutton Nate's flannel. He got one button down before Nate's laughter caused him to lose focus. "What?" Dan finally asked.

"You're just so clumsy," Nate said, smiling just a little. "It's kind of cute. Need some help?"

"Am I really supposed to ask for help with that?" Dan laughed. "That's pretty dorky."

"You are a dork," Nate corrected quickly. "In a good way."

"A good way?"

"Yeah, it's all hapless and cute," Nate explained. "That's kind of why I'm surprised you were able to write a whole novel."

"…Thanks?" Dan replied, doing that amused/confused facial expression that made Nate feel all tingly inside. With a slight shake of his head, bangs aflutter, Nate undid the remaining buttons on his shirt with a seemingly practiced ease.

Dan lifted himself up slightly to look down at the sun kissed perfection that was an almost-shirtless Golden Boy.

"Is this a look but don't touch type of thing?" Dan hesitantly asked.

"Nope." Nate answered.

It was lips, not fingers, that collided with the smooth muscled chest. Nate remained bemusedly quiet as the very faint sounds of Dan pushing kisses against his carefully crafted pectoral muscles. Rather than watch his best friend shower his chest, Nate closed his eyes and rolled his head back, content to let Dan act out whatever feelings he wanted. He wore a pleased smile whenever he felt the slight quiver of Dan's mouth brush against him.

"Dan and Nate, Nate and Dan," The contentedly sighing Archibald breathed. Dan slowly ceased his kissing as he propped his chin in the middle of Nate's chest.

"What was that?" He asked.

"Dan and Nate, Nate and Dan," The Golden Boy repeated. "It has a nice ring to it."

"Yeah," Dan nodded, tongue doing a quick flick of Nate's chest. "It does."


	9. It's Things Like This

The knock at the door elicited a grumble from Nate. He had always been defensive, but with Dan it now bordered territorial and greedy. The young Archibald was now within striking distance of getting when he had wanted so fiercely since high school.

Dan rose from his spot, which was using Nate as a mattress, to answer the door. Nate kept a hand on Dan's wrist as long as possible, craving the simple action of contact. It was an entirely ordinary motion, but the motivation and intent that prompted it were anything but. When he felt himslef slightly tugged at, Dan looked down to see Nate's hand. There was a bit of melancholy to it all. Dan had been afraid of no one ever wanting him again, now someone refused to let him go. He ignored the second knock at the door as he bent over, full of purpose.

Nate felt his eyelids ease shut as Dan pressed a silent kiss to his forehead.

The only noise came from the startings of raindrops as they collided with the windows of The Loft. Nate's hand released from around Dan's wrist, fingers drifting over his hand. The two swapped low chuckles.

"I'm not going very far," Dan reassured. Nate nodded. The trace of Dan's husky whisper sent smoke through Nate's mind. It had been so very long since he had heard that particular side of Dan's voice. The deep and throaty tones that would sound so poetic no matter how mundane the subject matter were still an impossible mystery to Nate, as was the human that made them. His present array of deep thoughts, bolstered by the rhythm of the rain, stripped Nate of his sense of time. By the time he reopened his eyes, Dan was back on the couch and back on top of him again. "Hey." Dan said as Nate reopend his eyes.

"...What just happened?" Nate asked, voice still quiet, like anything above a whisper would shatter the beautiful glass-like nature of the moment. The raindrops outside picked up in frequency as Dan searched his mind, and heart, for a suitable answer.

"I sort of kissed you," Dan said, voice back to that sultry and smokey whisper. "Was that okay?" He asked, face neutral, but eyes showing dark stars.

"Yeah," Nate nodded, bringing an arm around Dan's torso. "More than okay."

"Why's that?" Dan asked, shifting on the couch so he could do his best to curl against Nate's lithe yet muscular frame.

"Because I've wanted it to happen for a long time," Nate explained, pushing himself into the couch so Dan had more room.

"Why?" Dan asked, for the life of him very curious.

"Because I've wanted to do it for a long time," Nate said, blue eyes locking with Dan's. Their gaze said more than any of their words, though that didn't mean they were going to stop trying. "I've just...wanted to."

Dan nodded, understanding entirely even if he didn't have the slightest clue as to why. "What have you wanted to do?"

"Be close," Nate whispered back, again afraid a loud voice might ruin everything. "Be close to you."

"Why couldn't you...we, do that before?" Dan asked, studying Nate's face.

"It would have been so weird," Nate confessed. "Serena, Blair...Chuck." Nate said.

"Good point," Dan nodded. "So you're saying because my book destroyed my social life...we can...try?"

"Exactly," Nate nodded, face a small smile. "But, what did you mean by try?"

"Well, you know, do what you've said you always wanted to do." Dan laughed.

"That's a lot of stuff, Dan," Nate confessed. "A lot."

"Tell me about it all." Dan asked, truly curious.

"I'm pretty sure we're supposed to be dating." Nate said bluntly.

"Supposed to?" Dan repeated.

"Remember how crazy high school was?" Nate asked. Dan nodded. "Well, it always seemed kinda like you and me were always able to patch things up quicker than everybody else."

Dan nodded in agreement, slightly touched at the obvious thought Nate had put into all of his words. It couldn't be easy to suddenly be thrown into a situation, and he appreciated how calmly Nate was about the whole thing. "Go on." Dan encouraged gently, giving Nate a little peck on the nose.

"It's...confusing, man," Nate laughed, face tinged a playful red from the kiss. "First it was pressure to date Blair, then Serena..."

"And yet, here you are," Dan took over. "So, you're saying you've always liked me?"

"Yeah," Nate nodded. "Yeah."

"Can I ask why?"

Nate could have given Dan a whole list of reasons, like the list of reasons he had scribbled throughout the pages of his copy of _Inside_. But that would have been too much. It was easier for him to just roll on top of Dan and smash their lips together. Dan, in almost typically awkward Humphrey fashion, groaned and squirmed, but made no genuine attempt to resist. He was totally overridden as Nate forced his tongue into his mouth, determined to explore every inch of the mouth he knew he and no one elsed deserved. It was laughable to assume that anyone but him deserved Dan.

Nate's territorial desires ramped up, a decent sized part of him willfully ignored Dan's slightly frantic motions that were trying to communicate he didn't have any spare oxygen left. Nate eventually pulled back, albeit hesitantly. He smirked while Dan panted. "Huh. So that's what it takes to shut you up."

Dan, completely red in the face, could merely keep panting, eyes wide in a cute little combination of shock and arousal."The...umm... uhh... pizza will get cold if we keep this up." He babbled.

"That's all you can think about?" Nate laughed, rolling his eyes just a little.

"Uh-huh," Dan nodded. "Just about."

"Fine, Dan. Fine." Nate said with his best mock-anger. Dan laughed a little as he deposited slices of pizza on plates. He handed off the plate with the larger slices to Nate. Whatever manners and etiquette that had been drilled into the young Archibald went out the window whenever he was around Dan. It's not like Dan Humphrey was going to complain about how he ate. That was yet another thing Dan had going for him, his 'lack' of a UES upbringing meant he didn't always wear suits or act like every little thing was a formal cocktail gala. "So, you left out the really embarassing stuff." Nate said.

"Like what?" Dan asked, just a little curious.

"Like the scar story," Nate said, grabbing for said marked appendage."Why did you leave this out?"

"How was I supposed to work it in?" Dan laughed. "We weren't together then."

It took the two a full two minutes of silence for the two to realize what Dan had said.

"But we are now?" Nate asked, essentially the fate of his world hanging on the response.

"Yes," Dan answered, nodding. "If you don't mind being stuck with a wayward, outcast writer from the wrong side of town."

"Those all sound like turn-ons to me." Nate said, sealing the answer with a wink


	10. Cinema

The pizza, both of them, were long gone. Turns out clumsy confessions of love caused great amounts of hunger. Dan, true to form, had insisted they watch a movie. Nate agreed, but only if he got to pick.

The Dan Humphrey DVD collection, something of a legend amonst Brooklyn and the Upper East Side, was quickly fondled by Nate's slightly rough fingers.

"God, you own some shitty movies," Nate huffed.

"I do not, Archibald," Dan glowered back. "You're just...low-class."

"Kiss my hard, tan ass, Humphrey."

"Really? May I?" Dan asked with fake glee masking a genuine perverted desire. Call it an oft-had fantasy.

"...Maybe later," Nate winked, deciding that the horror classic _Hellraiser. _"Is this fine with your uppity Hipster standards?" Nate asked, dropping the DVD in the player and moving back to the couch. He not so gracefully pushed Dan out of the way then pulled the curly-haired writer most of the way into his lap.

"Romantic," Dan snickered, settling in against Nate. He enjoyed the feel of his back against Nate's chest and his breaths. There was this wonderful unspoken warmth that belonged only to the playful, sincere Archibald. It was a side that Dan always found calming. The only thing more calming was the infinite blue of Nate's eyes. They were just literary devices that the universe dreamt up. Luckily, this galactic treasure with man-bangs only had eyes for him, and Dan loved that. So much so he had accidentally written a book about it.

"You have such great taste in movies, Archibald," Dan happily sighed. "Rain outside, dark, cool setting inside...and you pick a Horror movie."

"And what would you have picked?" Nate asked. "Something foreign?"

"No," Dan half-pouted. "Maybe."

"Uh-huh," Nate chuckled, looping an arm around Dan's chest from behind. Dan leaned back to basically cuddle against the guy who was now his boyfriend. Though, they'd known each other so long and had been through so much, the term boyfriend pailed in comparison to what they had. 'Boyfriends' didn't have the smile that Nate had, they didn't have the kind of hug that made Dan feel like the rest of the world didn't exist, much less capable of hurting him. They had never been truly intimate, but it felt like they had been partners for years. In many ways, they had been.

Dan smirked a little, clearing his throat. "So, favorite part of my book?" He asked.

Nate appeared deep in thought as the two glared at the screen. "I'd have to say the part where your character got dumped by the actress and spent several weeks sleeping on the floor of my character's dorm room."

"Because that so didn't happen in real life," Dan chuckled a little, recalling the mopey memories.

"Same question to you, Humphrey," Nate said, giving Dan a playful nudge. The writer paused. Hmm, this might get awkward.

"Is that your big reunion question?" Dan slowly asked. "I mean, have you been thinking about it?"

"Yeah," Nate nodded.

"Well, there's the one part where your character rescues my character from being beaten up by drunken University of Michigan fratboys," Dan said, a hand drifting to softly squeeze at Nate's warm, denim covered thigh. "But, there is something else. A lot else."

"You can tell me," Nate reassured, his voice as calm as the waves in his Cerulean eyes.

"Okay," Dan said softly. "Let me get up real quick." He said as he slipped into his bedroom and fetched a few pieces of neatly arranged paper from under his bed. He lauughed out a small smile as he redepositied himself in Nate's lap and silently handed the papers over. It wasn't just a few paragraphs, it was a whole seven page chapter. Nate's eyes darted over the words. It painted a very sensual picture.

Nate's baseball playing character was off on some tournament, leaving Dan's lonely and troubled writer character off by himself. Well, that was until Dan's character drove about four states and snuck into Nate's characters hotel room.

Then they had sex.

Well, not really sex. More like making the most gloriously written love Nate had ever read. It wasn't smut or jerk-off material. It was romantic and epicurean, slow and deliberate, complete with sprinkled confessions of love amidst the rolling of sheets and pillows.

Nate gulped down a breath of suddenly cool air. That was something. Even more so that Dan had written it out and kept it secret for who knows how long. "Just...wow." Was all Nate could muster after a little bit. He mananged to sling an arm around Dan's shoulders and pull him even closer. It slowly dawned on him that it wasn't just the lost chapter that had been filed away and hidden. Dan, feelings and all, had been as well. In the abstract, he knew Dan had been feeling lonely, he just hadn't figured out that he was lonely with all these pent-up feelings.

"Does it.. is it okay?" Dan finally asked, voice still soft, clearly seeking approval. Nate chewed at his bottom lip. A standard 'sure' wouldn't be nearly enough. At any level.

"It's fine. More than fine. Wonderful. I mean, amazing," Nate babbled, still not sure of what to do or say. "Do..do you want to get out of here?"

"Out of where? Brooklyn?" Dan asked. "It'd be social suicide for you to be seen with me. Much less, you know..."

"Who said here?" Nate smiled just a little. "Pretty sure every papprazo and blogger in the Five Burroughs is at some movie premiere right now. We could sneak out."

"Again, Nate, where?" Dan inquired, curious.

"My place up in Westchester. Big, empty house, abundance of privacy. Plus, you know, me." Nate gave a big grin. Dan blushed immediately.

"Deal, as long as it's not some two-night, weekend thing," Dan chuckled. "Extended stay at one of the Vanderbilt Winter Manors?"

"Seems like a plan," Nate shrugged, smiling a kiss onto Dan's forehead. "C'mon, start packing."

Dan gladly did, almost mindlessly flingling flannel shirts, boxers and jeans into a suitcase or two. Nate laughed under his breath. Dan was nothing if not eager sometimes. There was this effortless, reckless charm that Nate found himself often completely beholden to. Soon enough, Dan had his boots and coat on, luggage in hand. "Ready." He nodded.

"Good," Nate said, grabbing one of the suitcases from Dan's hand and replacing it with his own.


End file.
